"Stevenson, Robert Louis - New Arabian Nights" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stevenson Robert Louis)

There were no formidable obstacles to pass. The outer door stood
open; the door of the cabinet was ajar; and there, in a small but
very high apartment, the young man left them once more.

"He will be here immediately," he said, with a nod, as he
disappeared.

Voices were audible in the cabinet through the folding doors which
formed one end; and now and then the noise of a champagne cork,
followed by a burst of laughter, intervened among the sounds of
conversation. A single tall window looked out upon the river and
the embankment; and by the disposition of the lights they judged
themselves not far from Charing Cross station. The furniture was
scanty, and the coverings worn to the thread; and there was nothing
movable except a hand-bell in the centre of a round table, and the
hats and coats of a considerable party hung round the wall on pegs.

"What sort of a den is this?" said Geraldine.

"That is what I have come to see," replied the Prince. "If they
keep live devils on the premises, the thing may grow amusing."

Just then the folding door was opened no more than was necessary
for the passage of a human body; and there entered at the same
moment a louder buzz of talk, and the redoubtable President of the
Suicide Club. The President was a man of fifty or upwards; large
and rambling in his gait, with shaggy side whiskers, a bald top to
his head, and a veiled grey eye, which now and then emitted a
twinkle. His mouth, which embraced a large cigar, he kept
continually screwing round and round and from side to side, as he
looked sagaciously and coldly at the strangers. He was dressed in
light tweeds, with his neck very open in a striped shirt collar;
and carried a minute book under one arm.

"Good evening," said he, after he had closed the door behind him.
"I am told you wish to speak with me."

"We have a desire, sir, to join the Suicide Club," replied the
Colonel.

The President rolled his cigar about in his mouth. "What is that?"
he said abruptly.

"Pardon me," returned the Colonel, "but I believe you are the
person best qualified to give us information on that point."

"I?" cried the President. "A Suicide Club? Come, come! this is a
frolic for All Fools' Day. I can make allowances for gentlemen who
get merry in their liquor; but let there be an end to this."